


Sed bene velle minus

by shessocold



Series: The Circus [2]
Category: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011), Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - John Le Carré
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Infidelity, M/M, Porn With Plot, Pre-Canon, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 08:44:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21158846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shessocold/pseuds/shessocold
Summary: "Close as thieves, Smiley and Control were, so they say, right to the end."





	Sed bene velle minus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuminousGloom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminousGloom/gifts).

At first, Smiley assumes it’s a mistake. The sight is certainly absurd: Control’s left hand — freckled with age, long-fingered, elegant — resting on Smiley’s right knee under the table.

He glances up. Control is frowning at the memo in front of him, ostensibly insensible to the fact that his fingers are slowly travelling upwards over the fabric of his right hand man’s trousers. 

Smiley looks away, bewildered. 

Seconds tick by. After a brief deliberation, his mouth dry, Smiley decides to keep silent and see if Control’s warm hand is actually going high up enough to… 

It does. Smiley coughs politely. 

“Is there a problem?” inquires Control, the pad of his thumb now brushing against the tip of Smiley’s half-erect cock. 

“I just wanted to make sure,” replies Smiley, adjusting his glasses. Despite Ann’s indiscretions, he’s always been a faithful husband, unresponsive to the sometimes decidedly unsubtle hints of secretaries and assorted female acquaintances; Ann, to her credit, more than makes it worth his while when they’re getting along, and he’s never quite felt that he was missing out on anything. 

That said, it's been weeks since he last felt someone else’s touch, and Control’s advances are both completely unexpected and absolutely unapologetic, and sometimes — Smiley realizes suddenly — one just needs to feel that one is wanted. 

Ann will have to find a way to live with it, then, if she ever finds out. Provided, of course, that she even remotely cares about what her husband does and doesn’t do outside the marital bed. But if he’s going to go through with this, now it’s not the time to think of Ann — beautiful Ann, with her pale slender fingers and... 

Control, his hand pressed over the bulge of Smiley’s erection, grunts approvingly. Ann, too, had been mildly impressed on their first night together: the memory of the way her lovely eyes had widened just so when he’d first pressed his body against hers has been a balm to Smiley’s often injured pride for many, many years at this point. 

“Off,” mutters Control, gesturing at Smiley’s belt buckle. Smiley’s hands shake slightly as he undoes his trousers. 

Once, years ago, when he’d first come to terms with the fact that Ann had definitely taken a lover, Smiley had tried going against his own nature and being as aggressive with her as he supposed she wanted him to be — aggressive enough to grab her by her hips and bend her over the side table in the hall after dinner at Quaglino’s. 

His hands had been shaky then, too, as he lifted her evening coat and her skirt and lowered her knickers. She had been very wet, the sensation almost overwhelming as he — on tiptoes, given that she was wearing her high-heeled shoes — rubbed the tip of his cock against her slick folds. 

“George,” she had said, glancing at him over her shoulder, her cheekbones flushed, “George, aren’t you using a…?” 

Smiley had swallowed around a lump in his throat. 

“No,” he had replied, with unconvincing bravado, and Ann, to his surprise and relief, had approved of his plan at once. 

“Go on, then, toad,” she’d sighed contentedly, and for the first time in their marriage Smiley had taken her without a condom. 

Control’s grip is rougher than what Smiley is used to, enough to draw a moan and make Smiley worry about being overheard by the small army of secretaries outside Control’s office. 

He wonders what they would make of the whole thing if they could see them now — would they think their beloved Chief had gone batty? Or is this (Smiley glances down at the hand stroking his cock) something that Control does regularly, and he had simply never felt the need to settle for drab, colourless Smiley before? Smiley thinks fleetingly of Bill Haydon, which is of course a terrible mistake, and then his mind inevitably circles back to Ann. 

Ann, lovely inscrutable Ann, who, her initial coquettish submissiveness notwithstanding, had been almost insultingly grateful for the fact that Smiley had not actually tried to get her pregnant when he had had the opportunity. 

“Poor toad,” she'd cooed afterwards, sinking to her knees in front of his unresolved erection. “Let me take care of you.” 

Had she, even at that moment, been thinking of somebody else? Was it Bill Haydon she pictured while she took her husband in her mouth? Had Smiley ever been the only man in their bed — in her mind? 

“I’d hate to play poker with you, George,” says Control, with forced levity. “Look at you, you might as well be queueing at the post office. I take it you’re not particularly enjoying yourself? Shall I stop?” 

“I am,” replies Smiley, making a great effort to banish all thoughts of Ann from his mind. He supposes he’s telling the truth — the physical sensation is undeniably pleasant, and the circumstances are rather thrilling, all considered, even (if he dares) flattering. “I am enjoying myself,” he repeats, this time slightly louder. “Quite a lot, actually.” 

Control gives a raspy laugh. 

“Good,” he says, his hand moving faster around Smiley’s cock. “I wouldn’t have put it past you to tolerate it out of sheer politeness.” 

“You’re too kind for your own good, George,” Ann had said, apropos of nothing, while she was taking off her make-up — minus the lipstick, which had mostly smudged off while she was sucking Smiley’s cock. 

“Am I?” Smiley had said, blinking vaguely at her reflection from the emptying tub. 

“Yes,” she had confirmed, turning around to hand him his glasses. She had already, Smiley had noticed, taken off her rings for the night. “Towel off, toad, you’ll catch a cold.” 

There had been many, many things that Smiley had wanted to tell her just then. 

“I love you, minx,” he’d said, eventually — which, if nothing else, was profoundly, excruciatingly true. 

Ann had turned back around and resumed her make-up removal. 

“I love you too, George,” she had said, without looking at him, and Smiley had done his utmost to believe her. 

Control’s lined cheeks have gone as pink as a choirboy’s with the effort of trying to bring Smiley over the edge. Smiley, feeling guilty, closes his eyes and casts around for a suitably exciting mental image — something powerful enough, he hopes, to chase off the ghost of Ann. 

It’s a pointless endeavour, naturally. 

With a sigh, Smiley relaxes his shoulders and allows his mind to be flooded by memories of his wife. It only takes a couple of minutes for him to come, spilling all over Control’s hand to the recollection of the way Ann’s breasts had looked in her bridal corset. 

“It’s a tidier job when you’re doing it to yourself,” remarks Control, dabbing his handkerchief on the ruined cuff of his jacket. 

“Quite,” says Smiley, stifling a yawn as he does up his trousers. A sudden thought occurs to him. “Do you want me to…?” 

“Don’t be foolish!” barks Control, stuffing his stained handkerchief into his pocket, and they go back to working in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> "How is this so, you ask? Because such an injury drives a lover to love more, but to like less." — Catullus


End file.
